Home > Devil's Game (Reapers MC #3)(68)

Devil's Game (Reapers MC #3)(68)
Author: Joanna Wylde

“She with you voluntarily?”

“Yup,” I replied.

“Shit,” he muttered. Then he sighed. “Daughters are a curse. The other one isn’t even answering her phone . . . At least Em’s safe right now, although I hate to give you credit for that. Can’t say the same about Kit.”

“We’re in the open here,” I told him, losing patience. “No reason they’d know where I am, but I’m not comfortable just standing on the street. Tell me where to take her.”

“Bring her to Cookie,” Picnic said. “I’ll call Deke, he’ll make sure you get in and back out without trouble.”

About f**kin’ time.

“Hunter?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for protecting her. You get her home safe, I’ll consider it a personal favor.”

I felt a grim smile steal across my face. He wouldn’t thank me if he had any clue what I’d been doing to his baby girl fifteen minutes ago . . . Or what I had every intention of doing to her again as soon as I got her alone in a room with a bed. Little Emmy had a trip around the world in her future.

I shook my head, trying to clear the mental image. Damn.

“I don’t need your favors,” I told Picnic. “Tell me about Kit. You can’t get hold of her?”

“She’s not answering her phone,” he muttered. “Em says she took off with some guy, but she doesn’t know what he looks like. Fuck, Kit drives me crazy. Odds are good this prick’s got nothin’ to do with our situation, but I’m not gonna breathe easy until we find her.”

“My sister saw the guy,” I said. “Want me to have her call you?”

“I’d appreciate that.”

I hung up and handed the phone back to Em. Her eyes were haunted.

“How’d it go?” she asked. I shrugged.

“Hard to tell. Not as bad as it could’ve—he says it’s safe to take you home, and I believe him. He wants you behind walls more than he wants me dead. Let’s go.”

I swung a leg over my bike and she hopped up behind me. A true child of the MC, she didn’t think twice about climbing on in her little skirt. I kicked the scoot to life and we took off.

EM

Cookie’s small front yard was full of motorcycles. Like, full of motorcycles. Half the Portland brothers must’ve been there, which wasn’t a good sign.

Hunter still insisted on walking me to the door, despite the fact that two prospects stood in the yard eyeing him. In theory this was safe. Dad should’ve called ahead, made sure they knew he was coming . . . But walking into a Reaper stronghold with a Devil’s Jack felt like tempting fate.

Deke himself opened the door. He and Hunter were about the same height, although Deke’s build was heavier. Seeing them together, I was struck by how similar they were. Not in appearance . . . No, more in the way they held themselves, casually poised for violence, faces blank. I’d heard rumors about Deke over the years. They said he made people who caused trouble for the club go away. I glanced at Hunter with new eyes, realizing he’d never actually told me what he did for the Jacks.

Did he make people go away, too?

“Thanks for bringing her home,” Deke said, reaching for my arm. Hunter met his gaze, then took my chin and turned my head toward him. He leaned over and kissed me, slow and deliberate.

That kiss had nothing to do with sex. Nope, this was all about marking territory.

Dad’s head was going to explode.

“She’s here because you’ll keep her safe,” Hunter said. “Don’t know if Picnic told you, but we have our own problems tonight. I’m assuming we all got hit by the same crew.”

“Maybe,” Deke said, his eyes cold. “I find out you’re behind this, I won’t kill you fast, boy.”

Holy shit. Deke was scary.

“Night, Em,” Hunter said, ignoring the Portland president’s threat. He leaned forward and whispered in my ear. “I’ll call you later. Might not be right away, but don’t worry.”

Then he turned his back on us and walked back down to his bike. There was something almost cocky about the way he moved. Like he was taunting Deke. The Portland president pulled me into the house, shutting the door behind us. I tried to pass through to the kitchen, but he blocked me.

“Your dad know you’re f**kin’ the enemy?”

I swallowed, but I held firm.

“I’m an adult, Deke. What I do is my business.”

He crossed his arms and eyed me, something almost like disgust in his face.

“You’re a spoiled brat,” he said bluntly. “You and your sister both. I’ve never given a shit about that because you’re not my kid and you’re not my old lady.”

I gasped.

“Here’s the thing, though,” he continued. “You do anything—anything at all—that puts Cookie and Silvie in danger, I’ll kill you myself. We clear?”

I’d never had anyone talk to me like that. I knew my eyes must be wide and I had no idea what the hell I should say to him.

“Em!” Cookie called, running into the living room. Her face was red, like she’d been crying. She pushed past Deke to catch me in her arms, hugging me tight. “I can’t believe what’s happening. When Picnic called because he couldn’t get hold of you . . . I was terrified.”

“It’s all right,” I said, watching Deke over her shoulder. His face was still blank. Had I imagined what just happened? “I’m safe now. No word from Kit, though.”

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